


When There's Not Enough

by Vexie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Multi, PTSD Shiro, Tragedy, a touch of romance, with a bit of comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8223406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexie/pseuds/Vexie
Summary: Space is huge and cold and dark and lonely. It’s silent and endless. It's just that. Space. It's you, and the people you're traveling with. Any small shift in your routine can throw your whole world out of balance. Shiro's world is shattered as he watches his paladins pair of with a mixture of pride, fear, and a deep longing he doesn't understand...no more than he understands why he's desperate to run from Allura's attempts to build a relationship with him. It's enough to unlock memories of his time as Champion...but does he want to know?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KouHimuro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KouHimuro/gifts).



> Dedicated to tehheartlessnobody because they told me I could treat Shiro like my beloved Agent Washington without knowing who Agent Washington is. >:3 
> 
> So, to my lovely, and to everyone else, please enjoy.

            Space is advertised as such a fun place to be. From television shows to advertisements for scientific and military space programs, it seems like space is always full of exciting adventures. But when you take out all of the jump cuts, space is just that. Space. Long, silent, dark, unending space. There are no seasons, no day, no night. Just space.

            You either handle this or you don’t. In those first months hurtling endlessly through this silent corridor, Shiro has to teach his surprisingly young crew how to handle it. He settles into a routine, taking time to make sure each of his fellow paladins is useful and happy.  

            First thing every morning, Shiro arrives in the training room to find Keith waiting for him. The two of them train together for an hour and half. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays they work on strength with a complex weights routine. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays they work on drills and sparring. Keith can almost keep up with Shiro these days. Each bruise Shiro gains from Keith is a badge of pride.

            At 0800, the Paladins meet for breakfast. Lately, Shiro has encouraged Hunk and Coran to put their heads together to diversify the menu. They’ve been working their way through some interesting recipes involving produce found on the planets they’ve been able to stop at. This is a hit-or-miss meal. Hunk, while enjoying his education in alien cuisine, does not let an opportunity pass to complain about the ingredients and is particularly vocal about the things he can do with Earth food every time one of their meals is a “miss.” Shiro tries to be encouraging. He doesn’t really mention that all food is pretty much delicious after eating nothing but tasteless “nutrient bars” specially developed for each species to eat while in captivity. It was a machine-generated brick containing exactly the vitamins, minerals, and other content needed for his specific body to run correctly. It tasted like mud.

            After breakfast, the paladins train together in rotating units of hand to hand combat, weapon-based training, or in their Lions. This happens with varying degrees of success until lunch.

            The afternoon is when Shiro works with Pidge in the engineering bay. Some days they work with the Lions, other times, they study the technology of the castle with Coran. There are some afternoons where Pidge just wants to ask questions about her family. Shiro does his best with these days.

            The evening belongs to Lance. After realizing that trying to structure time for Lance is a physical impossibility, Shiro tentatively decided to let Lance organize a recreational activity for the group in the evenings. Something to break up the monotony. Lance is surprisingly good at this. Most of the time, he comes up with something good, like the time he worked with Pidge to somehow bootleg Earth movies while coordinating snacks with Hunk. Every so often, he has a terrible idea, like his “free for all Zero G dodgeball” idea, which ended in a sprained ankle (Hunk), a bloody nose (Lance), a broken pair of glasses (Pidge), a very triumphant winner (Keith), a very annoyed loser (Coran), and a very angry princess (Allura).

            At 2200, Shiro shepherds his paladins to their quarters for lights out. Whether or not they stay there is not his concern. He goes to his own room to enjoy the silence. Sometimes, he even gets a few hours of sleep. When he’s lucky.

            It’s a rough schedule; it would never really work out in a real military unit.. Any CO Shiro had ever had would laugh derisively at this shamble of a unit. But the kids stick to it with a sense of purpose. It works. And it works for Shiro, too. He watches them laugh together at dinner or during Rec time and thinks of the other smiling family he flew with. This one won’t be taken away.

 

            Space is also very empty. It’s you and the people on your ship. You see the same faces every day. No matter how big your ship is, you start learning everyone’s idiosyncrasies. So when something shifts, even something very small, it’s like the whole world has slipped out of orbit for a minute.

            “Hey, can you pass—“ Shiro turns to Pidge on his left at dinner, but it’s not Pidge. Coran is sitting next to him, waiting attentively for him to finish his sentence. Shiro indicates the leafy blue vegetable with orange stripes, drizzled in something that (were it not purple) could almost be cheese sauce. Coran passes the bowl cheerfully. Shiro takes some of the vegetable while scanning around the table. Pidge is on the other side, sitting next to Hunk. The two of them were talking animatedly about some sort of programming code. Pidge’s eyes are sparkling as she nods up at Hunk. Shiro’s breath hitches for a second. Why? He blinks down at his plate. It must be Matt. Pidge looks just like Matt, excited about some new scientific discovery. That’s what it is.

            But Shiro notices that Pidge and Hunk spend more and more time together. Pidge spends less time as Shiro’s sullen little shadow, and more time talking to the darker boy. Their friendship is easy and light. Shiro is glad to see Pidge smile and laugh more…that kid’s had enough heartache in her life after all. However, he can’t help how his chest squeezes every time he looks up and sees them together.

 

            Shiro doesn’t even have time to fully process this change when he’s hit by a second one. He arrives in the training room a few mornings later to find Lance standing sheepishly next to Keith. Both of them refuse to meet Shiro’s eyes.

            “What’s this?” Shiro asks.

            “I just….thought maybe I should…train more?” Lance tries, while Keith supplies his own explanation with reddening cheeks:

            “I invited him because his stances are sloppy and he needs to build some mass in his noodle arms,” he blurts.

            “Hey!” Lance looks at him in surprise.

            Shiro prepares for the coming fight, but Keith reddens further.

            “It’s true, okay? I--We don’t need you getting killed in battle,” he says, looking at the floor near Lance’s feet.

            “Oh. Well. Yeah, okay. Yeah,” Lance stammers. He looks at Shiro. “So can I stay?”

            Shiro feels that tightening in his chest again, looking at the two awkward boys. He’d have to be an idiot not to see that there’s more going on than just training. But he nods with an assuring smile, pretending that nothing is out of the ordinary.

            “Happy to have you. Let’s get started,” he says, using his best cheerful CO voice.

            Shiro starts them of with some stretching. He closes his eyes and tells himself that it’s a _good_ thing. Lance needs to take more initiative with training. Keith is right; the boy is all skin and bone and no strategy. He needs a bit of polishing as a soldier and a pilot.

            Still, there’s something off-putting about Keith whispering corrections to Lance as he attempts to mimic Shiro’s movements. Shiro assumes that he’ll get used to their morning workouts as a trio, but with each passing day, all he notices are the smiles the two boys share as they try to out-do each other in exercises, or the extra care Keith gives Lance as he explains one of their drills. It becomes less of Shiro and Keith’s workout and more of Shiro instructing Keith and Lance’s workout.

 

            Keith and Lance. Pidge and Hunk. Shiro tries to ignore them until after dinner a few weeks later. He and Allura drew kitchen duty; he’s washing and she’s drying.

            “So what do you think of all of the changes that are happening around here?” Allura asks him with a smile.

            “Hmm? What changes?” Shiro asks, glancing at Allura before going back to scrubbing the plate in his hands. She laughs.

            “Come on, Shiro. Don’t pretend that you haven’t noticed some of our Paladins spending more time together than they used to. I think it’s rather sweet,” Allura says. She finishes drying a glass and has to stand on the tips of her toes to place it on its shelf.  

            “Shipboard romance either works well or it doesn’t work at all. We’ll see what happens,” Shiro says with a sigh, handing over the clean plate. Allura takes it as Shiro starts on a new one. The dreamy smile has not left her face.

            “Don’t be so gruff,” she teases gently. “It’ll be good for them to have someone. Besides, they’re children still. This is what they’re supposed to be doing. It’s fun to see them paired off, don’t you think?”

            Shiro drops the plate he’s just started washing. He’s vaguely aware of it breaking. 

            _It’s fun to see them paired off…_

 

            It’s just after he became Champion. He somehow finds himself stripped and strapped down to a cold table while various medical officers wave devices around him, jab him with needles, or place probes on his exposed flesh. This is not a fun time Shiro’s woken into.

            “This part is so interesting. We get to see what makes these little creatures tick,” one of the great purple things purr, scraping at Shiro’s tongue. He’s awake, but he can’t move. Is he sedated? Either way, he can’t avoid her if he wanted to. As the cold metal collects his DNA, Shiro wishes he could shudder, at least. He _really_ would like to be able to avoid this.

            “I don’t know, I like the next part better. It’s fun to see them paired off. I like imagining what the mix is going to look like,” another says from their spot holding a cold, slimy wand to Shiro’s forehead.

            “Yeah, yeah, it’s all fun and games until one of those little mutts breaks loose and kills us all,” grumbles one of the older technicians.

            “Quiet,” a new voice snaps. Two guards step into the room. The medical technicians step away from Shiro. His table tilts forward with him still strapped to it. He’s now floating above the ground vertically. A few sensors remain attached to various parts of his exposed body.

            The first technician pats Shiro’s face, baring their teeth in a savage grin.

            “Now you get to relax, Champion. We’ll be testing the other top competitors for compatibility,” they say.

            “Compatibility…for…what?” Shiro manages to slur around the sedative. By this time, his resistance to sedatives and other forms of restraint is expected. It’s a show of strength.

            “Breeding, of course,” one of the other technicians supplies…the one who enjoyed seeing them paired off. _Oh god_. Shiro’s stomach twists at the thought. _Breeding. That’s what they meant_.

            The aliens grins as Shiro’s heartbeat beeps faster on the monitors. 

            “See how _excited_ it is?” the technician purrs. “As well you should be, human. As the reigning champion, your opinion will be taken into consideration. Consider this a reward. Any compatible being you want is yours to take in the name of Zarkon.”

            Shiro tries to swallow the bile rising in his throat. _No no no no_ , he thinks over and over. Fighting against one’s will is one thing, but _this_?

            He watches as solemn faced beings are led into the lab to be scanned, one at a time. Each of them eyes him with disgust, hatred, or fear until he has to look away. He finds one of the technicians watching him closely. It’s the older one, the one who seems afraid of this breeding program.

            “Does this not please you?” the older technician asks, sneering at him. “Your offspring will be bred for greatness, more powerful than even you, _Champion_. Take heart in knowing that your little mutt will be a difficult opponent in the arena.”

            Shiro loses the battle and empties the contents of his stomach onto the lab floor. He hears a roar of rage before feeling the needle enter his arm and sleep overtakes him.

 

            “Shiro?” Allura’s voice is higher than usual in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

            Shiro can’t answer her. He can’t do anything but try to control the breath that is ripping its way in and out of his lungs without his consent. He’s straight-arming the wash-basin; his knees are water. Alien beings parade across his mind’s eye, accusation plain on their faces. _You, you, your fault,_ they chant at him. He forces himself to count to ten and _breathe_.

            “Shiro?” Allura says again.

            “Sorry,” Shiro says, but cuts himself off. How can he explain what he just remembered?

            “Did I say something wrong?” Allura asks.

            Shiro looks at her for a moment. He searches her face, expecting to see the disgusted glare of the figures in his memory. All he sees is genuine concern. This is almost harder to swallow than disgust.

            “No, I just…spaced out for a second,” Shiro says. “Hey, we’re almost done here. Why don’t you go on and see what Lance is setting up? Some adult supervision would probably be good.”

            “If we’re almost done, I’d be glad to stay and finish helping you,” Allura says.

            Shiro doesn’t miss the emphasis in her offer. _I’d be glad to stay with you_. His heart beats hard enough that it almost physically hurts. His breathing is threatening to get out of control again. He forces himself to smile at her.

            “No, really. Princesses shouldn’t be doing dishes, anyway. I’ve got it,” he says. The word _Princesses_ slams down like a wall between them, falling out of his mouth sharper than he intended. _You and I have nothing in common_ , Shiro doesn’t say.

            “V-very well,” Allura says, eyes lingering on his for a moment before falling to the ground. She dries her hands and puts down her towel.

            Allura turns to go, but looks back at Shiro, as if preparing to say something else. Shiro is counting down seconds until she’s gone, praying she doesn’t try to argue with him. She sees this—she _must_ , he thinks, because she sighs, purses her lips, and leaves. As she walks away, for just a moment, Shiro sees a deep red braid instead of white curls. He blinks rapidly and the red braid disappears. _Who…?_

            But then she’s gone and he’s on his knees in the kitchen floor, releasing the panic building in his chest in sharp gasps that burn his chest on both inhale and exhale. He still grips the basin, hands shaking. Beads of sweat appear on his forehead as waves of horror roll off him. Does he remember what came next? He prods at his mind, but all he can drudge up is the sense of dread that settled in the pit of his stomach when he watched the other competitors enter the lab. He doesn’t want to know what happened next. Something in his mind begs him to leave the memory alone.

 

            The next few days pass without another memory. Shiro makes sure of this, spending as much time alone as he can. He starts bringing his tablet to meals, claiming that he really needs to catch up on his reading. No one questions him, thankfully, though he feels Allura’s eyes watching him. He hasn’t spoken directly to her since their shift in the kitchen.

           

            Lance is coming along nicely. Shiro stands back and watches as Keith takes Lance through a more complex hand-to-hand drill. Lance executes it without much trouble and glows under Keith’s praise (hidden in criticism, of course). Shiro hasn’t directed the two of them at all today. They’d already begun when he’d arrived. Neither of them had greeted him—he wasn’t sure if they knew he was there at all. Their drilling is almost more of a dance. The two have been working together enough that they know each other’s bodies. They move through each step without having to wait for the other person to move.

            Lance and Keith finish their drills and start preparing to spar.

            “Any bets this time?” Keith calls out.

            “Sure, you take mopping the dining hall if I win,” Lance responds, grinning as he wraps his knuckles.

            “You clean my room if I win,” Keith shoots back coolly. He stretches his arms, then his legs.

            “Your room isn’t a mess…what kind of bet is that?” Lance asks.

            Keith simply raises his eyebrows. Shiro sees Lance’s mouth form a perfect “O” before breaking into a grin.

            “You’re on,” he amends, stepping into the ring.

            They circle each other. Shiro, for just a moment, sees a different pair of boys. One with a clear, scar-free face and completely dark hair, untouched by the blackness of space. And the other…

            Shiro walks out of the room. The two sparring boys don’t even notice. He decides to take a run in one of the artificial courtyards. The plant life will do him good. Or, that’s what he tries to convince himself.

 

            Shiro’s routine falls back on track. Breakfast is an extraordinary hit; Coran finally managed to pick up birds who laid eggs similar to chicken eggs (that were NOT poisonous this time), and the resulting omelets are fantastic…even if they do have a strange, slightly minty aftertaste. Cheered considerably, Shiro leads his team through morning training. All goes well until lunch.

            “Where’s Pidge?” Hunk asks, eyes narrowed as he stares around the table.

            “Hmm?” Shiro looks up from his tablet. “Oh, she probably went ahead and started working. She’s been eager to get everyone’s power reallocated so the lions’ shields are stronger,” he says. Hunk’s frown deepens.

            “She’s skipping meals again,” he states.

            _Again?_ Shiro notes with a raised eyebrow. But the more he thinks about it, he does recall Pidge being absent from a few meals here and there.

            “She’ll be fine. She’ll eat when she’s hungry,” Shiro says.

            “Hmm,” Hunk says, clearly unhappy.

            Shiro’s mind is less on Pidge’s diet, and more on her project. If she’s already working, he should go help. He finishes eating quickly and stands.

            “Shiro, a word?” Allura says, motioning for him to follow her. Shiro hesitates, then sighs and does as she asks. He notices Keith and Lance watching him, then bowing their heads together to whisper. This is not the first time this has happened. Maybe this change in their dynamic isn’t a good thing after all. It’s starting to make him uneasy.

            “What’s going on, Allura?” Shiro asks once they’re out in the corridor. She stares up at him, arms crossed. Her eyes look tired, like she hasn’t been sleeping well.

            “That’s what I would like to know. You’ve been…distant from me since…well, since we had the dinner shift in the kitchen together,” she says. She’s to the point, though her voice quavers, unsure.

            “No—“ Shiro starts, but Allura holds up a hand.

            “You don’t need to make excuses. I just want to know what I did wrong and if I can do anything to repair it,” she says.

            Shiro runs a hand through his hair. Thoughts jumble and crash in his mind. How does he explain that it’s not her he’s avoiding—that he’s trying not to remember whatever it was that happened after the lab ( _Come on Shiro, as if you don’t know--)_ and why sometimes when he looks at her, he sees someone…someone else? How does he explain that she makes him remember things he can’t handle? It’s bad enough trying to sort through the twinge of fear he feels when he sees the other paladins together. He’s not ready to know what he’s trying not to know.

            “Nothing’s wrong,” Shiro lies, finally. “I’m not trying to be distant. I’ve just been a little busy with the others. You know, Lance joined our early morning training, so I’ve been working on new curriculum to get him up to speed. And then there’s that project with Pidge to improve our shields. Speaking of which, I’m already running late to help her, so I should go.”

            Shiro pauses a moment too long, waiting to see if Allura buys his story. She presses her lips together, her blue eyes boring into him. Finally, she sighs.

            “I appreciate your dedication,” she says, “but you really do work too much. It might be beneficial to you to spend some down time. Come see me for an assignment of that variety.”

            Again, he hears the offer in her words, but pretends to take them at face-value. He smiles and salutes.

            “Yes ma’am,” he says lightly. He turns and walks down the corridor.

            Allura watches him until he goes through the door.

           

            Pidge’s laughter echoes through the engineering bay when Shiro enters. He takes a moment to appreciate the ringing clarity to her laugh—the way a kid should sound. He finds her sitting under Yellow with Hunk. A plate of half-eaten food is between them. They both look up as Shiro approaches. They don’t look embarrassed like Keith and Lance usually do—they look more companionable and inviting.

            “Hey Shiro,” Pidge says, waving a sandwich at him.

            “I see Hunk got you to eat something,” Shiro notes.

            “I did,” Hunk agrees, somewhat proudly. “Uh, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay and help Pidge out with Yellow. I mean, I should be responsible for my own lion, right?”

            Shiro doesn’t miss the way Hunk glances down at Pidge, or the small, complete smile that creeps onto his face. Pidge’s ears have a pink tinge to them as she smiles back at him before taking another obedient bite of her sandwich.

            “That’s good. If you two have Yellow under control, I’ll start running diagnostics on the others,” Shiro says.

            Giving the two another glance, he starts to walk away. He’s almost to Black when he feels a large hand on his shoulder. He turns to find a serious-faced Hunk. The teen takes a deep breath that shakes on the exhale.

            “This is okay with you, right? I mean, you’ve been kinda…she looks up to you and stuff. And I know you guys kinda bonded over the whole family thing, so you’ve been protecting her and stuff. Look, I just want to make sure that, um. You’re not going to kill me in my sleep or anything, right?” The words come out in a jumble. Shiro blinks at him. The conflict in his mind doesn’t make any sense. Why does his heart leap at the thought that he could save Pidge right now? From what? He swallows his doubts and tries to smile. There’s no way to explain what he’s feeling.

            “She smiles more now,” Shiro comments. “It’s good to see that.”

            Hunk gives him a relieved smile.

            “Okay, cool, thanks,” he says. “I just wanted to check with you.”

            Shiro nods at him and walks away. Fortunately, he is not followed this time.

 

            Shiro’s routine has changed, even if his schedule has not. At 0600, he checks in at the training room. Most of the time, Keith and Lance either beat him there or walk in together a few minutes later. Keith has taken it upon himself to become Lance’s personal trainer, relieving Shiro of the responsibility of teaching either of them anything. Every so often, one of them has a question for him, as if he’s just the gym minder. Some days, Shiro bows out to complete his routine elsewhere on the ship.

            At 0800, Shiro fills a plate and retreats to the courtyard to eat while he reads.

            0900 is still group training time. It’s the only time he sees everyone together. He does his best not to see them watching him, unasked questions in their eyes.

            Lunch and dinner have become quiet. The couples whisper together. Even Allura is quiet, but Shiro tries not to notice her. If he meets her eyes, he remembers. But there she is, always watching him, her eyes burning even when he isn’t looking at her. Just like…

 

            They keep him alone for a long time—or it seems like a long time, anyway. Shiro assumes it’s because he refused to “select a prize” from the lineup of creatures who matched the requirements for genetic compatibility. He was thrown in a strange cell that seemed almost like an apartment. Upon questioning, his guard promised him that since he refused to choose, a mate would be chosen for him. “Zarkon will have his champions,” was what was said. The phrase keeps Shiro from asking any more questions.

            Finally, the door opens, allowing a tall, slender humanoid to walk into the room. She does so gracefully, regardless of the handling she’s receiving from her guards. Her skin has a grey-blue hue, but her eyes glow a pupil-less, fiery orange. Her hair is a vibrant shade of red, braided down her back. Shiro has seen her fight—she’s fast and skilled at finding pressure points. Now, the same being he saw destroy another competitor’s knee caps is to be his “mate”. He almost wants to laugh at the idea. Some prize.  

            “Hello Champion,” she says. Shiro pauses in surprise—she knows his language, though she breaks the syllables up in a strange way.

            “Uh, hello,” Shiro says. He’s awkward. She’s too calm and collected—does she know what they want from her? From him?  

            The stranger looks him up and down, arms crossed over her chest.

            “Do you…did they tell you why you’re here?” Shiro asks, raising a shaking hand to run it through his hair. He notes the shaking—he’s nervous.

            “The Galra call upon my skill as a breeder,” she replies, raising her pointed chin. The posture is proud, but she does not smile.

            “As a—is that what they’re calling females?” Shiro hisses, eyes widening. The line of creatures he saw in the lab marches through his mind’s eye, the word _breeder_ stamped on each of them.

            “I do not know this word. Female,” the stranger says, blinking at him. “What is this?”      

            “It’s…well…where I come from, typically people who have—can bear children are called females and the other ones are called males,” Shiro explains—poorly, he knows.

            “We do not have this. Bearing children is just a skill that some have and some do not, just as some can run fast, some are skilled architects, and others can smell borshnaks,” the stranger says with a shrug.

            “Can what?” Shiro asks then shakes his head. “Nevermind. What can I call you?”

            The stranger thinks a moment. She— _no,_ Shiro thinks _, they_ look at him.

            “You cannot pronounce my name with your human tongue, Champion. But the closest thing in your language to my name is Red,” they say. Shiro nods.

            “Red. Okay. My name is Shiro,” he says, holding out his hand. Red takes his hand and holds it, rather than shaking it.

            “Shall we reproduce now, Shiro?” Red asks, cocking their head to the side.

            Shiro pulls his hand back as though they’ve burned him.

            “No,” he says, voice sharp. Red looks at him in surprise.

            “They have put us together to breed us because we are strong,” they remind him. “That is why I am here.”

            “I know what _they_ want. But I don’t want that,” Shiro wraps his arms around himself, shuddering.

            “They said you were reluctant to choose a breeder. I don’t understand. Breeding is just a skill necessary to continue to populate. It is an important skill, but it is not difficult. Do you need me to teach you?” Red asks. A burst of near hysterical laughter bursts from Shiro.

            “Teach me? No, I know--No. But it’s not happening. Not here. Not with you,” he says.

            Red’s eyes narrow.

            “Do I displease you, Champion?” they ask, clicking their tongue.

            “No, you don’t. I just…I won’t do that to you. This…breeding. It shouldn’t happen like this,” Shiro says.

            “Then what?” Red indicates the cell.

            “Then we wait them out,” Shiro says. “You take the bed. I’ll take the floor. I don’t sleep much anyway.”

            He turns away and spends the next few days trying to figure out how to ignore the being on the other side of the room. Every time he looks, though, there’s Red, with their fiery eyes fixed grimly upon him.

 

            “How are those diagnostics coming?” Pidge’s voice shakes Shiro out of his thoughts. His ears are still ringing with the broken syllables of _Champion_ that he misses the sarcasm dripping from the young genius’s voice.

            “Uh, good, fine—“ Shiro looks around—which screen is it?

            “You haven’t started them yet,” Pidge informs him.

            “Oh,” Shiro says.

“You’ve been sitting in Black, staring off into space for twenty minutes. What’s up?” Pidge climbs into the cockpit and curls on the edge of his seat. She fits—but barely.

“Nothing. I guess I just got lost in my thoughts,” Shiro says.

“You’ve been lost in your own head a lot lately. It’s not good for you,” Pidge says. Shiro looks down at her in surprise.

“What makes you say that?”

Pidge gives him a deadpan look, eyebrows raised.

“You’ve been avoiding us. All of us. We’ve all had a chance to exchange notes because you haven’t come to a group meal for a week,” she says. As usual, each word she speaks is a bullet. Shiro sighs.

“Look, you all are…you know. Together now. You and Hunk. Keith and Lance,” he says, gesturing.

 

“So, what, you’re getting awkward about us being couples?” Pidge shakes her head. “I didn’t peg you for that kind of a guy.”

“No, no,” Shiro says. “I just…thought you could use some space.”

Pidge sits back to look at him for a moment. She shakes her head again.

“You’re not in the way, Shiro. Actually, you know, we miss you. You’re the one who worked so hard to make sure we’re a—a family. We all love you or whatever.”

This last is said quickly. Shiro looks up at Pidge. She’s looking away, out the same window Shiro had been staring out of. A faint pink tinge is spreading across her nose and cheeks.

“You know, when I met you, it was kind of like having a big brother again,” Pidge mumbles, blush deepening. “I miss that.”

Shiro gives Pidge a smile.

“You know, you remind me of him quite a bit. When I first saw you, I swore I was meeting Matt back at the academy all over again,” he says. He ruffles her hair. “It was kind of weird, actually.” This gets a smile out of Pidge.

“Does this mean _you’re_ going to stop being kind of weird?” she asks, reaching up to stop his hand from further destroying her hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll give it a shot,” Shiro says. His voice is playful, but his throat tightens with preemptive panic at trying to handle the onslaught of memories when he sees everyone together.

“Good,” Pidge nods, looking satisfied. She starts climbing out of the lion, then stops.

“Oh. And…look. I don’t know what happened between you and Allura, but she’s been looking awful ever since whatever it was. I think she really likes you…you should talk to her,” she says.

“What?” Shiro blurts. “I don’t—“

“Just _talk_ ,” Pidge says sternly, narrowing her eyes at him before disappearing from sight.

Somewhere, beyond all his shock, Shiro registers that sometimes Pidge reminds him of her father, too.

 

Over the next few days, Shiro makes a conscious effort to rejoin his team. Not that they make it easy on him. It’s not so much that they try to talk about his previous absence. It’s more that the team seems to suddenly vanish until it’s just him and Allura alone in the room.

After the third or fourth time this happens, Shiro starts seeing the intention. It starts after lunch, one day. 

“I just made a huge mess in the kitchen. It wouldn’t be fair for you to have to clean _that_ up,” Hunk says. “Go help Allura water the vegetable garden.”

He shoves a helmet and gloves at Shiro with a wink. It’s the wink that tips him off. Shiro realizes this halfway to the gardens. He frowns. This is not good. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy Allura’s company…it’s just that he doesn’t know what to do.

 _Case in point_ , he thinks to himself as he enters the room to find Allura looking at him hopefully. Blue eyes flash fiery; white hair flashes red.

 _This is how it was_ , a voice that starts in his mind and reverberates in his heart whispers.

Shiro deflects each of Allura’s attempts at real conversation with small talk. Did she see the meteor shower they passed the other day? Had Pidge told her what she and Hunk had figured out with the Lions? Want to know how Lance got that black eye; it’s really an amusing story…

 _This is how it was. You go on living every day right next to each other but always running away. And there she is, always behind you, waiting, ready._  

There’s not enough room in space, sometimes. When it’s just you and your crew, and something between you that you’re not ready to face. Space is so big that it’s too small for you.

           

            After Hunk’s wink, Shiro is more aware of the Paladins’ attempts to get him alone with Allura. Not that they care. The teens don’t really have the patience for too much subtlety.

            It starts with Lance staring hard at him all through dinner. Shiro uneasily continues eating, trying to pretend that he doesn’t notice. Meanwhile, he watches Lance in his peripheral vision—he’s getting _closer_. A few times, Lance’s mouth twitches, like he’s about to speak, but he doesn’t.

            Finally, Shiro sets down his fork and turns to face Lance. Their noses almost crash into each other. Lance backs up a fraction.

            “ _What_?” Shiro snaps.

            Lance is only shocked for a brief moment.

            “Are you gay?” he asks. “Is that it?”

            Allura starts coughing, dropping her fork onto the table with a clatter. Coran gingerly pats her on the back and refills her glass with water. Shiro stares at Lance, mouth open, for several seconds. Lance meets his stare with narrowed eyes.

            “I—what?” Shiro stutters.

            “You heard me,” Lance says. He sits back, as if realizing something. “Not that it’s a bad thing. No matter what you’re into, it’s cool, right?” He elbows Keith for emphasis.

            “Hey!” Keith frowns at him.

            “You know what I’m talking about,” Lance says over his shoulder. “So?”

            “I…don’t….know?” Shiro finally gets out, brain still reeling from the sudden question.

            “Jeez, what an insensitive question. Just because _you’re_ out doesn’t mean you can go around outing other people,” Pidge says, leaning her chin in her hand. “Besides, no one ever asked you for your sexuality.”

            “Was it a secret?” Keith looks genuinely surprised.

            “Hey—what?” Lance looks from Pidge to Keith.

Hunk laughs, and the spotlight is moved away from Shiro. He resists the urge to drop his face into his hands, and settles for a heavy sigh instead. Predictably, blue eyes (fiery eyes) are locked on him when he looks up again.

 

Lance having broken the ice, the rest of the team seem far too _comfortable_ broaching the topic of romance with Shiro. Keith interrogates him point-blank during sparring sessions. Why is he leading Allura on? Why not give her a chance? Could he at least talk to her? Shiro learns to dodge Keith’s questions as quickly as he does the punches.

Hunk, on the other hand, has taken to bad metaphors and illustrations while they work down in engineering. He starts saying things like “These two pieces were made to go together; why won’t they just go…together?” It’s all Shiro can do to keep from bashing his head against the wall. Pidge comes to his rescue most of the time here; she has no patience for metaphors and responds with helpful things like “They’re not going together because you’re trying to put it in backward. Turn it around.” The two then banter, until Hunk inevitably explains his metaphor, and why Pidge had ruined it.

            It’s an exhausting series of days for Shiro.

            Maybe that’s why he lets his guard down, just for a moment.

 

            Shiro is standing on a balcony, watching the other Paladins play Capture the Flag in the large open space below. He’s supposed to be monitoring their game for cheating, but mostly he’s just enjoying the peace.

            “Did I ever tell you that this was a good idea?” Allura says, approaching him cautiously.

            “Hmm?” Shiro says, glancing at her.

            “Evening activities. Letting them play like this. It was a very good idea. It’s nice to hear laughter in the castle again.” Allura leans on the rail next to Shiro, but not too close. The distance is bearable.

            “Yeah. Space is too quiet unless you keep making noise. They used to talk about that during training. People who take long journeys into space have to keep listening to music and keep talking to each other or they’ll go crazy,” Shiro says.

            “Space is lonely,” Allura agrees. The last word is pointed. Shiro looks at the princess, but her eyes are focused diligently on the game below.

            “I’m…I’m sorry,” Shiro says quietly. He doesn’t know what else to say.

            “I’m not settling, you know. If that’s what you think. I—I truly find you charming and strong and—“

            “I know. It’s not anything you did. It’s just…complicated,” Shiro says, cutting her off. “I’m complicated right now. I’m still trying to…I mean… _I_ don’t even know what all I’ve been through. It’s going to take some time before I’m…not…complicated.”

            Shiro watches Allura’s face, trying to figure out if any of what he said makes sense. It only barely makes any sense to him. But when she looks up, her eyes are sad, yet somehow hopeful.

            “If the circumstances were different…?” she all but whispers.

            The hair on Shiro’s forearm and the back of his neck stands up.

            “If the circumstances were different…well…maybe,” he says, hearing an echo of himself.

            Allura smiles at him, eyes still full of sadness. She nods once, then walks away quickly. Shiro crumples against the railing, letting memory overtake him.

 

            For quite a while, Shiro expects the Galra to come in and force him to _breed_ with Red at gunpoint. But they don’t. Shiro falls into a routine.

            When he wakes, he runs through exercises and drills. He practices martial art forms he’d learned as a child to make up for the lack of equipment. By the time he’s finished, food is delivered. He eats breakfast, then tries to get as clean as he can (not easy when all he has is a sink). He then studies what he can from the datapad he’s managed to keep with him. It doesn’t have any useful things like a way to contact home or break free from his cell, But it does have manuals on shipboard computers, engineering, piloting, and navigating. It had been Matt’s, before they were separated. It had fallen from his pocket when Shiro had shoved him to the ground. Shiro rescued it before any of the guards could notice it.    
    In the afternoon (or what he imagines is afternoon), Shiro practices traditional weaponry based on memory alone. He wields imaginary swords and staves, trying to make his muscles retain the memory of what it was like to bear such weapons. The danger of any unknown gladiatorial battle looms on the edge of the horizon—though it seems they’re not going to shove him into any battles until _this_ is over.

            The evening meal arrives. After eating this, Shiro meditates, then settles into his corner to sleep.

            Red…is something else. They watch him in his daily routine, flaming eyes almost curious. For a few cycles like this, Red is as silent as Shiro is.

            One “morning,” however, Shiro notices a silent shadow following his forms. He glances over his shoulder to find Red performing the moves with far more fluidity than he can manage. He stops. They stop and look at him. A violet blush rises to their cheeks.

            “Your fighting style—it is different than mine. I like these move sets you do,” Red says.

            “I, uh, I like your style, too. I don’t know very much about pressure points in _humans_ , let alone in alien beings,” Shiro says. He thinks for a moment, then smiles. “I’ll teach you my style if you teach me yours.”

            This is the first companionable morning Shiro spends with his new companion, the two of them going over different forms and routines together.

            Shiro finds Red intruding in little ways like this. They ask him about his reading and admit that they don’t know anything about spaceships—they were an agriculturist back home. He teaches them from his datapad. They ask if they can show him a form of meditation from their home, and Shiro learns new breathing styles. Soon, Shiro and Red spend meals together, sitting at the small table in the cell.

            Shiro realizes it in the middle of afternoon sparring. It stops him dead and Red lands a punch across his jaw that starts throbbing instantly. But Shiro sits on the floor without noticing.

            “Shiro, what is wrong with you?” Red squats down. Shiro stares at them.

            “I—we—we’re getting along,” he says stupidly. What he’s not saying is _I just realized that I like you_. His heart twists terribly at the thought. What is he supposed to do?

            Red’s face blanks. They stand.

            “Maybe…you would like to stop fighting for now,” they say quietly.

            For the rest of the cycle, Red gives Shiro his space. He’s grateful for it. He stays lost in his thoughts until Red touches his forearm.

            “Come,” they say.

            Shiro follows them over to the one bed in the cell. Red turns to face Shiro, then slowly reclines on the bed, making room for him. They smile, sharp, pearly teeth glinting in the dim light. Shiro hesitates. His knees are somewhere between locking and turning to water.

            “Come,” Red says again, their voice gentler.

            “I don’t…I don’t want this,” Shiro says, but his voice is husky. He swallows hard.

            “As I have said, I am willing, always, but this does not have to be about the task they have given us,” Red says. “It has been a long time since I have called a face _friend_ , too, Champion.”

            Red reaches one arm out toward Shiro. He notes the way the shadows give contrast to the heavy definition in their strong arms—arms that can send him to the ground in a few quick moves. Arms that end in hands that can immobilize him and make his limbs numb for hours. A hand that gently takes his own and draws him down next to them. Red’s smile softens. They brush Shiro’s hair from his face.

            “Friends, huh?” Shiro says. He can’t help but smile.

            “This was to be as it sometimes is where I come from: a business transaction for the continued benefit of the community. That we can be friends is a surprise. A good surprise,” Red says. Their voice is surprisingly gentle—gentler than Shiro would have thought possible.

            “I tried pretty hard not to like you,” Shiro admits. “Every other person I cared about has been taken from me, here.”

            “And I also. This is a gift,” Red says, gesturing between them.

            “A gift,” Shiro echoes doubtfully.

            He sighs, rolling onto his back and covering his eyes with his arm.

            “And this is _my_ gift,” Red says, their voice above him. Before Shiro can ask what they mean, warm, soft lips press to his own. He takes a breath to react, but inhales a scent that unlocks such a _longing_ in him…Earth’s autumn sun on the grass and the crisp bite to the wind, the spicy scent of apple cider, leaves filling the air as they fall to the ground… _how_ is he smelling any of this? This soon takes second place to the firm pressure of Red’s kiss—chaste, yet confident. They pull back, leaving Shiro wanting more, yet relieved to be let go. Red leaves their hand on Shiro’s chest, but retreats to their side of the bed, letting him breathe and process.

            “What…happened?” Shiro asks finally. Red’s long fingers twitch on his chest.

            “This is my gift,” they say again. “I have a gift as a breeder. I am made to attract. You could smell things you love, yes?”

            “I…yes. But how? I smelled _home_ ,” Shiro whispers.

            “Home? A place, not someone?” Red asks in return.

            “Is that weird?” Shiro turns to look at Red finally, worried. They laugh in surprise. Shiro smiles at the sound.

            “No, but it is good to hear,” Red says. They sigh, caressing Shiro’s chest softly.

            “I think I would be sad if you smelled some _one_ from home,” they admit. “I know I should not…”

            Shiro catches Red’s hand in his.

            “Red, if circumstances were different…well…maybe…” he falters. Their eyes glow at him in the dim light.

            “Maybe we could stay like this?” they finish for him.

            Shiro kisses their fingers.

            “What is your real name? In your language?” he asks in return.

            The musical combination of hums and whistles, overlapping in ways no human voice ever could is a sound that Shiro has heard many times since then, but could not place. Their name, then, is the sound that follows him into sleep and chases him into wakefulness.

            If circumstances were different…

            Well…

 

            “A _what?_ ” To her credit, Allura seems as taken aback as the Paladins do.

            “A ball. Surely you haven’t forgotten what those were like, have you, my dear?” Coran says, smiling at her.

            “Why would we have a ball?” Hunk asks. “I mean, it’s literally just us on this ship. Some party.”

            “I’ve been reviewing your education as Paladins and I find your lack of training in diplomatic behavior deplorable,” Coran says with a sniff.

            “Our—what?” Lance wrinkles his nose.

            “There will be many times during which you will need to represent our cause or even neighboring planets to other planets. You must be able to behave yourself in a courtly manner,” Coran says.

            “Well, he’s not wrong,” Allura agrees apologetically, smiling down the table at everyone.

            “So what would this entail, exactly?” Pidge asks, her face stony. “I’m not going to have to wear anything pink and frilly, am I?”

            Hunk turns to look at her wistfully. She raises her eyebrows at him.

            “No, no, though we will be finding suitable apparel for all of you. We shall have an evening of elegance beginning with a banquet and ending with my teaching you lot some of the more noble dances of the galaxy.” Coran smiles around the table at all of them.

            “Banqueting? I’ll have to see what I can cook up,” Hunk says, digging for his datapad to look at what ingredients he might be able to procure.

            “This is going to be lame, isn’t it?” Keith asks. “Is this event mandatory?”

            “What, can’t dance?” Lance teases.

            “Shut up!” Keith snaps, turning red.

            “Oh, hey. I’ll teach you.” Lance’s tone is softer. “It’s easy, it’s just like sparring, but with less punching and more footwork.”

            Meanwhile, Pidge and Coran are arguing.

            “Yes, a dress would be traditional,” Coran says stiffly.

            “But _why?_ I’m so much more comfortable in pants,” Pidge complains. “I can’t climb anything or fix anything in a dress.”

            “It’s a _ball_ , not a battlezone. You won’t _need_ to fix anything!”

            Shiro smiles in spite of himself. It’s been a long time since he’s been to anything remotely close to a dance. As much as he hates to admit it, he can’t help but feel a little excited to see his Paladins dressed up. He meets Allura’s eyes by accident. She smiles back at him.

            Things have been easier between the two, more or less. She seems content to wait for him. They’ve eased into a companionable partnership when it’s their turn to do something together. Shiro has to focus on his breathing less and has started to pay more attention to the things that are purely Allura—things not drenched in memory.

            “What do you think, Shiro?” Allura asks.

            “Yeah, this could be fun. Count me in,” Shiro says.

            A whispered _Yesss_ from Hunk breaks the silence Shiro hadn’t noticed had fallen. The chatter resumes, though Shiro notices that the Paladins are a lot more enthusiastic now that he’s agreed to participate.

            They settle on a date a week ahead and start planning. Allura and Lance team up to dress out the crew—Allura with advice on appropriate attire for foreign events, and Lance with his knowledge of Earth fashion. Pidge spends one day with the pair, but only to ensure that her dress is anything but pink. Beyond that, Pidge spends her time helping Hunk concoct a suitable menu (though Hunk later admits to Shiro that she’s an awful sous chef). Coran prepares the remainder of the evening. Shiro and Keith awkwardly watch these proceedings until the night before the ball, at which time a large box of decorations is thrust at each of them, along with a well mapped diagram of what the main ballroom should look like when they’re done.

 

            Finally, the night arrives. Shiro surveys the clothes Lance left for him. To Lance and Allura’s credit, the traditional-cut black tuxedo is simple and clean; he would have picked out something similar himself. He’s a little unsure about the violet waistcoat and tie, but they work surprisingly well. He looks at himself in the mirror and tries for a smile.

            There. If he squints, he can see it. He can see the young pilot, fresh out of school, ready for adventures. That kid is in there somewhere. Shiro sighs. When did his face get so old? He shouldn’t look this old, right? It really wasn’t that long ago that he was attending dances in school.

            It just feels like it.

 

            The banquet half of the evening starts out a little tense. The food is delicious, but it’s hard to enjoy a meal with Coran barking etiquette in your ear.

            “This dressing is fantastic, Hunk. How did you do it?” Allura tries.

            “Well—“ Hunk starts.

            “Elbows _off_ the table, Lance. Pidge, that’s the wrong fork,” Coran interrupts.

            And so on.

            But into the main course, the tension begins to loosen. Shiro suspects that this is partially because of the deep blue, shimmery drink they’ve all been enjoying. He had half a mind to protest the younger paladins being allowed to drink it, but they’ll probably be expected to drink whatever is given them at future parties so that they don’t insult their future guests. And after all, this is a special occasion. Instead of worrying about his team, Shiro watches as they practice “polite small talk” with a smile. It’s not every day Pidge compliments Allura’s earrings (as if she’d notice something as trivial as earrings), or Keith very seriously asks Hunk to tell him about his kingdom’s exports. They have great fun trading roles and making up personalities for their supposed hosts.

           

            After the last course is cleared, they make their way to the dance floor. The room is decked out as if over a hundred guests will arrive at any minute. There are tables lining the walls with soft lighting in their floral centerpieces. Flowers and banners adorn the walls. The chandelier is polished to perfection; the lights dimmed just so. The giant windows look out on a quiet, dreamy galaxy. It looks like something out of a film. There is a moment of silence as the Paladins take in the splendor—even Keith and Shiro, who did the decorating.

            Music begins to play from nowhere Shiro can see, though as he looks over, he sees Coran pocketing a remote.  

            “Let’s begin by learning some of the more common cultural dances. Believe it or not, many systems share common dances,” Coran says over the rising strings, ushering everyone into designated spots in the room.

            They learn a few group dances, done in lines or in circles or patterns. Then they split into pairs to learn some of the couple-dances.

            “You’ll all need to learn to dance with partners, and on both sides,” Coran says. He and Allura demonstrate while the Paladins rotate through to dance with each other. Hunk, Shiro finds, is a surprisingly graceful dancer. He grins when Shiro mentions this.

            “I wanted martial arts. Mom wanted me to do dance. Guess who won,” he says.

            Keith, on the other hand, has two left feet, for all his grace in the ring. He faces this with gritted teeth and a red face.

            “Maybe if you—“

            “Don’t,” Keith says with a stiff shake of his head.

            Lance has far too much fun dancing. He’s not bad, though he tends to improvise away from the moves Coran calls out to them..

            “Adding your own moves to a formal dance could cause an intergalactic war!” Coran shouts more than once.

            Shiro twirls Pidge. The blue-green gown that flares out as she spins doesn’t really suit her, though the laugh she lets out looks perfect on her heart-shaped face as the curls _someone_  managed to style on her bounce into place. Shiro laughs with her.

            His dance with Pidge is his favorite of the evening.

            Finally, Coran releases the Paladins to enjoy the night, changing the music to a faster-paced song.

            For a while, they all dance together, taking turns showing off their best moves or making up new ones. Slowly, almost before Shiro realizes it, they separate into pairs. With a soft smile, Coran slows the music down. The lights dim, almost of their own accord.

            Shiro watches as Pidge smiles up into Hunk’s face, her own face glowing. He pulls her close—she steps on the tips of his shoes partially to keep his rhythm, partially to make up for the height difference. They laugh softly together.

            Lance’s face is gentle for once as he leads Keith slowly through dance steps. Keith’s shoulders slowly relax and his frown of concentration becomes a delighted smile as he starts getting the hang of it. Lance smiles back, as confident here as Keith is in their morning training.

            Shiro suddenly realizes he’s standing alone while his friends are paired off. He starts to bow out to give them some privacy, but turns to find Allura smiling shyly at him.

            “Would you care to dance?” She asks, holding out a hand.

            Shiro has avoided looking at her all night until now. Her white hair is pulled into an elaborate up-do, though the bottom few layers of white curls cascade down her back. A simple gold circlet rests on her head. She wears a slim gown of shimmering sky blue, bringing out the brightness of her eyes. A gold gauzy material drapes from her shoulders to her hand.

            In a word, she’s breathtaking.

            For once, Shiro looks at her and sees only Allura. Still, he hesitates for just a moment. Then Coran is there, over his shoulder.

            “Come now, we wouldn’t want our guests to think we’re not friendly with each other,” he says playfully.

Shiro laughs at this, and steps forward to take Allura’s hand. Her face lights up.

“It would be an honor, your highness,” Shiro says.

“We don’t really seem to have a choice, do we?” Allura jokes, reaching up to put her hand on Shiro’s shoulder.

Shiro freezes, his chest burning as though he’s been stabbed. He can’t breathe.

“Shiro?” Allura pulls her hand back. He stumbles away from her.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, eyes wide. Everyone has stopped to look at Shiro in surprise.

Shiro barely sees them.

Without a word, Shiro forces his back straight and walks stiffly from the room. He feels the eyes on his back, faintly, but his mind is focused on putting one foot in front of the other before his heart explodes.

 

Shiro and Red spend the next few nights in each others’ arms. They sleep less and spend their time telling each other everything about their lives growing up on their different planets. They drink in as much of each other as they can. They know their time is short.

Sure enough, the Galrans run out of patience. The door to the cell bursts open.

Two guards grab Red while one back Shiro against the wall.

“Our patience runs out, _Champion_ ,” the guard snarls into Shiro’s face. “You will breed with this being one way or another. Either it does its _job_ and you come to it naturally, or we take what we need from your bodies and create what we want in a lab.”

Shiro finds Red’s eyes over the guard’s shoulder. There could be a way out of this! The guard looks over his shoulder, following Shiro’s gaze. He shoves Shiro into wall, then storms over to Red.

“ _If_ you fail to do your job, you have no more use here. You end your fights too quickly and you fail as a breeder, gift or not. You will be tortured publicly for your failure, then executed,” the guard roars. Shiro lets out a strangled cry. The guard bares his teeth in a savage grin, satisfied.

“I would choose quickly if I were you.”

The three guards leave. Shiro does not move from where he sits on the floor, shaking.

Red comes and kneels before Shiro. They take his hands in theirs, running their slender thumb against the fingers of Shiro’s human hand.

“We don’t really seem to have a choice now, do we?” They say softly, their voice light.

“I’m so sorry,” Shiro whispers, the words ripping from his chest.

“No, Champion. Shiro. No,” Red says, moving their hands from his hands to his face.

“It’s my fault. All of this. They want to kill you because I won’t _breed_ with you,” Shiro growls.

“No,” Red says again. “They want to kill me because they are cruel and that is their nature.”

“I can save you. But I…” Shiro drops his head against their hands. “This is wrong.”

Red lifts his head up. They give him a gentle smile.

“I understand why you do not want this. I did not, at first. But I see you refuse me because where you come from, my gift is a sacred gift, not a utilitarian one,” they say. “But now I ask you to look at things my way.”

“But…” Shiro starts. Red shakes their head, crimson braid swaying.

“I _choose_ this, Shiro. I am glad that it is you,” they say.

For a long time, Shiro studies Red’s face. Their fiery eyes are firm, confident. A small, sad smile touches their mouth. The dim light casts shadows on their high cheekbones, their small, pointed chin. Red could almost be a fairy-creature from a bedtime story long ago. Circumstances and all, Shiro has never seen a creature more beautiful. The smile on their face becomes more genuine even before Shiro speaks. They know.

“All right,” Shiro whispers. “After all, what choice do we have?”

“Come,” Red says, standing.

 

To Shiro’s relief, Red is patient. He takes his time with them. He takes in every last inch of them. They let him. They do the same. Shiro does not smell autumn and all the things he misses back home this time. He smells Red’s own, specific indescribable scent, burned into his memory from their late nights talking together.

Even as his body sings with theirs, Shiro knows deep in his heart that this is goodbye. He comes to his climax with his arms wrapped tightly around Red, his face buried in their shoulder.

 

Afterward, Shiro wants nothing more but to spend their last few hours lying together in the aftermath. He wants to pretend for just a few more moments that they’re nothing more than lovers. But it’s not to be.

Bright lights flash on overhead and a deafening roar is heard. The walls fade into transparency. Alien life forms scream and cheer. An announcer begins calling out where the beings can go to collect their bets—then come numbers. The final count of how long it took them to mate, of who made the first move, of how long the intercourse lasted…Shiro stops listening. He stares into Red’s face. They are as pale and horrified as he feels.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes again, his heart hammering.

“The Galrans are cruel,” Red says. Their fists are balled in the sheets. “They would disrespect our gift to one another further. This is no more than sport to them.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro repeats.

Red sees the guards coming for them before Shiro does. They grab Shiro’s face in their hands.

“I am not sorry,” they say quickly, urgently. Shiro stops and looks at them.

“Takashi Shirogane, listen to me. This is my gift to you. I will never forget you or our time together. They cannot take this from us, no matter what happens, do you understand?” Red says.

“Red,” Shiro whispers, wishing more than anything that he could say their true name.

            They pull him down for one last kiss.

            “I do not regret meeting you, nor anything that happened between us. Only the pain it causes you,” Red whispers in his ear as the door to the cell crashes open.

            “Thank you,” Shiro says. “Red I—“

            “Took you long enough,” the guard growls. “Time to get you into the labs, _breeder_.”

            He and another guard pull Red from the bed.

            “Red!” Shiro yells. He lashes out at the guards. He takes one down, but three more rush in to restrain him. He screams Red’s name as the guards pull them from the room. They go without resistance, while Shiro thrashes against the large guards holding him back.

            “Looks like you’re ready to go back into the ring. That’s our little champion,” one of the other guards laughs.

            Spent and hoarse, Shiro sags against his guards. They deliver him to his new home—back to a cell with no comforts and a single cot that doesn’t smell of Red.

 

            “Hold still,” Shiro complains to Black, who is swaying in a very annoying way.

            To be fair, it might be Shiro who’s swaying. He’s not entirely sure. He takes another swig from the bottle he holds and shudders. Whatever this deep green stuff is, it’s disgusting. But it packs a punch and that’s what Shiro’s looking for. A punch.

            He hears footsteps—someone’s climbing Black. He doesn’t look. Doesn’t want to know. Whoever it is sits down next to him and doesn’t talk. The flowery scent in the air tells him it’s Allura. Shiro braces for the questions, the pity, the concern. But it doesn’t come. Allura sits next to him in silence.

            _This is my gift. I choose this_.

            Shiro licks his lips and sets the bottle down.

            “Space is really, really big. Huge. And quiet. And lonely,” he says. His voice cracks.

            Allura doesn’t say anything. He looks at her—forces his eyes to focus on her. She’s watching him carefully, like someone might watch a wild animal. Her eyes look sad. They look sad often.

            Shiro sighs.

            “This is hard for me,” he admits. “From day one, you’ve been so open. You’re so full of easy love and intimacy and happiness. Even after you lost so much, you retain so much grace and strength. I’m…I’m constantly amazed by this. You are amazing. And you’re offering me…so much. I know you are. I’m not stupid. I know what you’re willing to give me. But I…I can’t accept it because I can’t give anything back to you. I don’t have anything to give. Not anymore.”

            He pauses, then looks at Allura again. Finally, she speaks.

            “Why?” she asks.

            Shiro’s heart contracts. He reaches for the bottle.

            _I choose this_.

            Shiro sets the bottle down without drinking from it and takes a deep breath.

            _This is my gift._

            Slowly, with many pauses, Shiro tells Allura everything. He tells her about his triumphs and how he was deemed the strongest. How they wanted strong crossbreeding—it was a pet-project of the Galran scientists. Shiro tells Allura about the beautiful being whose true name he can’t pronounce from a peaceful planet where fruitfulness was celebrated and beauty was everywhere. He tells Allura of the gift he was given, and the gift that was taken away from him.

            By the time he finishes, Allura wipes tears from her eyes. Somewhere inside, Shiro smiles at the princess’s soft heart.

            “What happened to her?” she asks.

            “Them,” Shiro corrects without thinking. He looks away, back out into space. He remembers. “They died—Red and our…our child. It turns out, according to the guard who brought the news, that our genetics could mix and produce a child, but their body couldn’t handle the birth of that half-human. I don’t know why. The scientists weren’t that concerned about it. They planned to find another suitable breeder for me. I started plotting my escape that night. I’d been waiting until I could find my crew but I couldn’t take any more after that.”

            “Shiro…I’m so sorry,” Allura bursts out. “If I’d have known the burden you carry, I would never have pursued you.”

            “Allura…” Shiro says, looking at her in surprise. She wipes at the tears running down her face, but they keep coming.

            “I forget how much you’ve been through,” she says.

            At that, Shiro laughs, though the laugh is a little dark.

            “So do I. It’s all right,” he says, reaching out to wipe away some of her tears himself. He offers her a small smile.

            “It’s really all right,” he says. “I had made myself forget to protect myself, but it’s disrespectful to them.  I can think about them and remember them now. I’m actually…really glad. So thank you for that. It means a lot to have this memory back, even if it’s a little painful.”

            “A little,” Allura sniffs, smiling. “I am sorry.”

            “No,” Shiro says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t give you…what you’re looking for. I’m sorry that there’s…there’s not enough room in me right now.”

            Allura nods once, looking out into space again. Shiro watches her as she takes a deep breath, then nods again. She looks back at him with a genuine smile.

            “Is there room in you for friendship?” she asks, holding out her hand.

            Shiro blinks at her, surprised. But then he returns her smile, taking her hand and shaking it.

            “I think there’s enough room for that,” he says.

            “Well then. That’s something, isn’t it?” Allura says, sounding like her usual, bright self.

            “I guess it is,” Shiro agrees.

            The two of them sit together staring out the window into the depths of space.

            Every now and again, they catch snatches of music echoing into the bay as the small, mock ball continues.

 

            Space is huge and cold and dark and lonely. It’s silent and endless. But you can fill space with so many things. With music and friendship and food and dancing. With the smell of autumn, then the smell of someone you once loved. With the memory of a name, and the comfort of a quiet companion. With all of that, space isn’t that bad.  

**Author's Note:**

> You made it! Yay! 
> 
> This is the longest one-off I've ever written, so please let me know what you thought of it. I'm really interested to see how this style of switching between two storylines worked out. I was a little nervous about it starting out. This is also my first time writing a non-binary character, so I'm really looking for insight as to how that worked out, too. 
> 
> Drop me a comment, let me know what you think of that stuff or anything else you think of. I love reading your comments! :3


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